


The Stranger The Better

by AetherAria



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: (first time all together not like. first time full stop), Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, First Time, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday (Penumbra Podcast), Multi, Porn with Feelings, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), Talking, i'm not a scalie but i'm also not a coward, just so much talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 20:57:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherAria/pseuds/AetherAria
Summary: Rilla, Damien, and Arum are all quite eager to find out precisely how they will all fit together in their new relationship. This eagerness carries over into the bedroom, too.
Relationships: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla (Penumbra Podcast)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 222





	The Stranger The Better

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since March. Why is it coming out NOW, you may ask? Well, this is my 69th fic on ao3, and i am a goddamn dweeb. It had to be smut. It had to be THIS. Oh boy I hope this is any goddamn good.
> 
> Title from the song Someone New, by Hozier, because of COURSE it is.

“You’re sure you want to do this, Arum?” Rilla asks as the Keep closes the way behind them, primly moving its focus off to other parts of the structure far, far away from Rilla’s room. “You don’t _have_ to if you aren’t comfortable with-”

“I told you that I did, didn’t I?” Arum growls, folding one pair of hands across his chest. He doesn’t blush - he _can__’t_ blush - but she knows the way his frill shivers when he’s embarrassed by now, the way his tail twists, curling in anxious coils, his scales whispering against each other. “Just because you want to hear me debase myself by _asking_-”

“You know that’s not what I’m doing,” she says with a calm shrug. “If you’re sure, you’re sure. Damien?” She turns to her fiancé now, and she’s glad she refocused because he’s starting to look a little flighty. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, my love,” he says after a deep breath. “Just thinking.”

“I don’t recommend that,” she says with a laugh, and Damien blinks and then smiles, clearly embarrassed. She doesn’t give him the time to be uncomfortable, plopping herself down on the rather large leafy bed in the center of the room. “Do you want help with your armor?”

“Yes,” Damien says, blushing more than enough for he and Arum both. “Would you-?”

Rilla nods and gestures for Damien to come closer. This part of their ritual is well-trod ground, by now. It _is_ odd to have a third party observing (or pretending not to observe, as Arum apparently intends), but there is a certain kind of thrill there too. She imagines how deft and practiced her fingers must look, moving through the slow process of unlacing the ties and undoing the straps of the light leather armor that keeps Damien safe.

Whether bored, irritated by the lack of attention sent his way, or merely drawn by the desire to be included, it doesn’t take long for Arum to unfold his hands from across his chest, shrug his cape off and set it aside, and then slink closer. He doesn’t sit by them, but crouches beside the bed instead and then he lifts a hesitant hand towards Damien.

“May I- show me how, Amaryllis.”

Rilla smiles, ignoring the way Arum wrinkles his nose, defensive, and then she takes his hand to guide it to the remaining buckles. He is actually better suited towards unlacing the leather ties than she is; his claws can slide between the tight knots to loosen them, and provided he moves carefully he can do so without cutting clean through.

Damien goes entirely silent as the six hands on his torso slowly take his outer layer apart, and Rilla can’t really blame him. She does worry that he might be getting in his own head, though, so she lets Arum finish pulling the armor off, and she settles a hand on Damien’s cheek to turn his face towards hers.

“Is this alright?”

“Yes. Though it is- it is unexpectedly intense, my love.”

“We’ve barely begun,” Arum complains, though his frill trembles again and his breath comes slightly fast. He sets Damien’s chest piece aside and then hesitates a moment before he climbs up onto the bed with them at last. He settles his hand on Damien’s arm, just above the shiny red line of the scar from his claw wound. Arum draws his thumb along the line, watching as Damien shivers at the gentle touch, or possibly at the simultaneous gentle touch of Rilla’s hands sliding beneath his undershirt to pull it off of him. “I’ve never-” Arum pauses, narrowing his eyes as both of his humans stop to look at him. “Stop that. I’ve- there are many aspects of this situation that I have never-”

“Have you had sex before?” Rilla asks, matter-of-fact and ignoring the noise of embarrassed anguish Damien makes.

“Of _course_ I have,” Arum barks. “But never- never with a human, obviously, _takatakataka_. And never with two partners at the same- let alone two who were already lovers, and not-” he winces, then rolls his eyes at himself. “Not with… anyone at all, in quite some time. It stopped being worth the effort for- for those I did not truly care for. Not like it is with y- don’t you _dare_ look at me like that, honeysuckle,” he snarls. “I will not be _pitied_.”

“I wasn’t- I’m not!” Damien reaches a hand out and Arum glares but still lets him touch his arm, as if echoing Arum’s earlier gesture, the absurd warmth of Damien’s calloused fingers sliding gently over his scales. “Rather,” Damien gives a single embarrassed laugh, cheeks dark and flushing darker as he speaks, “I was thinking that it is a terrible shame that a creature so luminous and seductive should have gone unloved and unappreciated for so long, a work of art cloistered away from the world. I was thinking that I should be grateful to share so rare an encounter as this, with two beings of such brilliance and beauty.”

“Prattler,” Arum says in a breathless rush, entirely unable to tear his eyes from Damien’s. “All your pretty little words-”

“All for you, my two most lovely flowers,” he says, soft and earnest. “They are all I have to give.”

“Oh, no they aren’t,” Rilla says, and kisses him. One hand cups Damien’s cheek, and the other slips down to undo Damien’s belt, and Arum _stares_ because he can’t seem to make himself stop.

They are almost painfully gorgeous like that, his humans, with her dark skin and rippling night-river hair, his leanly muscled torso and scattered, silvery scars, and the easy way they fit together seems magnetic. Magical.

Damien leaves his hand on Arum’s arm, fingers flexing against his scales as his mouth slides against Rilla’s. After a long moment Rilla pulls away with a hum, leaving Damien gasping as she glances to Arum. “You can do more than just watch, you know.”

Arum growls under his breath, tail thrashing in irritation and embarrassment. “I know that, _obviously_. But I can’t exactly do- do _that, takatakataka_,” he says, gesturing vaguely at their kiss as a whole.

“Is that all? You’re worried about kissing us?” Rilla smiles wickedly and it twists in Arum’s stomach like hunger, her confidence, her fearlessness. She meets Damien’s eye and smiles, and when he nods in response to whatever that silent communication was, she squeezes his arm and then climbs off from halfway in his lap where the kiss had left her. Then she’s beside Arum, kneeling on the covers. It’s one of very few possible positions that means that Arum needs to look up at her, and when she settles her hands on his shoulders, her dark eyes pin him in place. “Arum,” she says, voice gone to half a purr, “I’m a _scientist_.”

“So what?” Arum growls, adamantly ignoring the way his voice has gone ragged at the edges, ignoring how Damien stares at them just as Arum had stared a few moments earlier. “Are you planning on measuring the width of my mouth or my number of teeth or something equally ridiculous?”

“Not quite, Arum,” Rilla murmurs, leaning closer. “I plan to _experiment, _until we are all very, _very_ satisfied with the results.”

“Ah…” Arum pauses to clear his throat. “Well then. If that is the case… experiment away, Amaryllis.”

She grins, then leans down slowly, her hands sliding up from his shoulders to his neck, tilting his head to the side so she can press her lips to the line of his jaw, kissing a slow, lingering trail up until she can whisper right into his ear. “For this experiment to be successful, Arum, you _are_ going to need to be rather vocal with the results.”

Damien, who rarely needs encouragement to be vocal, makes a small wordless noise beside them as he watches, and Rilla’s smile slides a little wider.

“If you insist, Amaryllis,” Arum says, breathless.

Rilla nods, pleased, and then she lifts her hands to gently sink her fingers into the frill that folds there, the delicate webbing of scales like cool satin at her touch. He makes a low ticking noise in his chest, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, but when he doesn’t speak up she prompts, “What does that feel like, Arum?”

He growls to himself for a moment, and she feels the frill tremble, rising slightly to her touch, as he settles one pair of hands on her waist. “Strange. Not unpleasantly so, though- it is _sensitive_.”

“I can tell,” Rilla says, her thumb running along the edge, and then she lowers her mouth so she can kiss the scales just beside the frill, the crook of his neck, and he makes another noise at that. More animal, more growl. “And that?”

“Amaryllis-”

She presses her lips there again, then opens her mouth properly to tongue his scales, fascinated by the texture and a taste that reminds her vaguely of aloe. Fascinated as well by the strangled noises that Damien and Arum make in tandem. “How does that feel?”

He makes a breathless clicking purr, jaw clenching while his hands flex carefully at her waist, still conscious of the claws.

Rilla smiles, then gently tips Arum’s head back further so she can kiss the hollow at the base of his neck, then draw her tongue up the column of his throat, and finally she drags her teeth along his scales to bite down where his neck meets his shoulder. Lips still brushing his scales, she murmurs, “You have to tell me how it feels, Arum.”

“Good it feels _good_ Amaryllis of course it does,” he snarls above her, his frill flaring out around his head like a halo. “Will you stop- stop- _stopping_?”

“Only good. Hm,” she muses, and then she sits back, leaving Arum grasping after her with an expression of almost comical confusion on his face. “Damien, your turn.”

Damien gives her a wide-eyed look, but he quickly does as instructed, coming closer and sliding into Rilla’s former position, looking down at Arum with a flush across his cheeks.

“Good. Now, useful experimental results should be reproducible,” Rilla says pointedly, leaning sideways on the bed and watching them both through dark eyelashes. “So Damien, you should do exactly what I just did, and we’ll see if he reacts the same way.”

Damien makes the mistake of meeting Arum’s eyes, and then he whips his head to the side, flushing even darker and biting his lip.

“Well, little knight, you shouldn’t leave our herbalist waiting,” Arum says. “I believe she’s expecting a _show_.”

“It’s important data,” she counters, voice calm despite the hunger in her eyes. “Do you need a reminder of where to start, Damien?”

Damien inhales, shaky, and then lifts his hands, caressing Arum’s shoulders and then skating them up his neck. He tilts Arum’s head in precisely the same way Rilla had, and Rilla hadn’t actually expected Damien to have paid _quite_ that close attention. The visual- Arum had joked about her expecting a _show_, but Rilla realizes in this moment that she underestimated how incredibly _delicious_ the pair of them would look; Damien, shirtless and strong and moving with determined gentleness, and Arum, regal and gleaming in the low light, holding himself so carefully still and watching Damien through slitted eyes, and as she looks at the two of them together - Damien slowly presses his lips up Arum’s jaw, Arum purrs and flicking his tongue, their different textures contrasted against each other - Rilla’s mouth goes completely dry with want.

“Did- did that feel the same?” Damien murmurs when his lips are level with Arum’s ear.

“Not quite, honeysuckle. You… you don’t kiss in the same way. You are more- _cautious_.”

Damien touches the frill at Arum’s neck, leans down to kiss the edge of it, and Arum hisses softly in response. He lifts his hands again to grip Damien’s sides; four cool, textured palms on his ribs and back make Damien give a breathless gasp, and Rilla thinks, _this may not be good science, but it is _good science.

Damien kisses Arum’s neck again, then slips his tongue out, soft pink licking up Arum’s glossy green scales. Rilla bites her lip hard at the sight, and Arum’s mouth falls open to pant out a shaking breath.

More cautious, Arum said of Damien’s approach, but Rilla thinks it’s something else. Damien isn’t being playful like Rilla, isn’t trying to tease a reaction out of Arum. He kisses where Rilla kissed before him, but with an earnest tenderness, with near-reverence, and if Rilla’s read is correct it is having an even more intense effect on Arum than her own attempts. Rilla isn’t surprised, when she thinks about it. She knows firsthand how overwhelming it can feel, to be the focus of Damien’s full, worshipful attention in the bedroom.

Arum doesn’t seem to know what to _do_ with that tenderness, doesn’t seem to know how to react to being treated gently, aside from trembling and holding himself as still as possible. Arum very deliberately does not clench his hands on Damien’s soft human skin, wary of his claws; he just holds him there and lets Damien do as he pleases. Lord of the Swamp, willingly at the mercy of two humans. It’s a display of trust that pulls on something behind Rilla’s ribcage and makes her want to end the game, the experiment, and just-

Damien’s last kiss drags up Arum’s throat, then back down to bite so very gently, so sweetly, at the crook of Arum’s neck, and Arum chokes out a gasping rattle and then two of his hands lift Damien’s face towards his own, and Arum flicks his tongue out to taste the air and then again to taste Damien’s lips. When Damien opens his mouth - surprise, desire, all of it wrapped up together - Arum sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, just as gentle as Damien had been despite the growl emanating from his throat, and Damien moans, and Rilla-

Really needs to be closer to the both of them right this instant.

She crawls up behind Damien, pressing her chest into his back and wrapping her arms around him so she can lean over his shoulder. This is obviously a genius, brilliant maneuver because when Arum sees her close by he releases Damien’s lip and presses his face in between theirs, flicking his tongue along Rilla’s jaw and purring into her ear.

“Ridiculous- ridiculous little humans and- and-”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself at least a _little_,” Rilla teases.

Arum tries to growl, but it catches on the purr instead, making it louder, and two of his hands still hold Damien but the other two wrap around Rilla now, his tail curling around all three of them and pressing them together more tightly. “I didn’t realize humans spent so much time on the- the playing before the act itself,” he says breathlessly.

“Anticipation draws sweetness to the surface,” Damien breathes, and the cadence of his voice pools hot at the base of Rilla’s spine. “The tender touch of each raindrop in the spring serves to feed the flowers to follow-”

Arum’s breath catches, and he sinks his teeth into Damien’s bare shoulder carefully, though it still startles Damien out of his poetics and into a gasp.

“While I _am_ enjoying this,” Rilla says, her nails scraping lightly across Damien’s stomach, “we should probably discuss what we want to happen next. Or- what _Arum_ wants to happen next.”

Arum disengages from the bite, and Rilla struggles not to be too distracted by the soft, pale marks his teeth left in Damien’s skin. “Why _me_?” he asks.

“Because Damien and I already know each other’s _tastes_ quite intimately,” Rilla says, and Damien nods in agreement in front of her. “We don’t know what you’ll like yet, so you’ll have to tell us. We’re here, we love you, and we’re all willing to see where this goes next- so what exactly do you want to do, Arum?”

Arum takes a steadying breath, then releases the humans and leans back on the bed. Damien makes a quiet noise that is distinctly a whine, hands twitching towards the lizard, and Rilla kisses the bite mark on his bare shoulder with an amused smile.

“I want,” Arum says, a low rattle rumbling in his chest. “I want-”

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rilla says gently. “I just want to make sure you’re gonna enjoy yourself.”

“Obviously,” Arum growls, frill flaring enough that when he turns his head away it hides half his face, “obviously I want to- to ravish the both of you senseless.”

Damien makes another noise, leaning back into Rilla’s embrace for support as she shakes with silent laughter.

“A very, very appealing idea,” Rilla says. “But I was thinking more along the lines of specifics for right this moment, Arum.”

Arum snarls under his breath, flicks his eyes towards the humans and then away. “We are collectively wearing too much clothing,” he mutters. “That should be dealt with before we continue.”

Rilla is surprised to find that, in fact, her skirt and top are still on her person. Damien’s pants, too, have somehow managed not to fall entirely off of him yet. “A fair point,” she says, and then she shifts away from Damien enough that she can slip her top off over her head and toss it to the floor. Damien exhales like he’s been punched in the sternum, which is his usual reaction to seeing Rilla topless, but Arum looks curious more than anything else. “Damien,” she says firmly, “your pants?”

He stares at her for a breath or two, then starts slightly. “Er- right, yes, of course my love-”

While he busies himself with that, Rilla turns back to Arum, who doesn’t appear to have made any further progress undressing. He looks ridiculously tempting as is, bare from the hips up without his cape, reclined on the softness of the bed as he stares up at her with his pupils blown to wide dark diamonds. She leans over him, drawing her hand purposefully up his chest, admiring his musculature. She leans further to press a kiss to his shoulder, and then his neck as her other hand slides in the opposite direction, until her fingertips are dancing along the edge of his loose pants.

“May I?” she asks with her hand on his waistband, her lips close against Arum’s neck, and she feels him freeze for a moment before he glances down at her.

“Ah…” he hedges, eyes flicking away for a moment.

She takes her hand away immediately, leaning back.

“Are you uncomfortable undressing in front of us, or is something else wrong?”

Arum is briefly distracted from the question as Damien climbs back onto the bed, the only one of the three who is properly unclothed, now, and the knight blushes again when Arum looks him over without any pretense, tongue flicking in the air. Arum takes a deep breath, then, before he looks at Amaryllis again with a wry expression.

“I have far more experience than the pair of you, I should think, with negotiating a variety of different sexual organs,” he says with a half smile, and Damien’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Rilla, for her part, appears substantially less shocked by this turn of conversation. “Monsters are quite diverse in that way as in all others,” he explains, “while I understand that humans are limited primarily to two types, yes?”

Rilla makes a so-so gesture with her hand. “There’s some variation, it falls along a sort of spectrum, but for the most part we land on one of two ends on the bimodal distribution, yeah.”

“Then I hope-” he pauses, teeth clicking together for a moment. “I hope you will not be- I hope that I will be to your liking, even if I am somewhat- _different_-”

“Oh, Arum-” Damien begins, but Rilla puts a firm hand on his bicep to stop him before he starts to actually wax poetic on how much he’s going to love whatever equipment Arum is working with. It’s likely that will do more to embarrass him than anything else.

“If there’s a practical way for us to fuck each other,” Rilla says, enjoying the way Damien jolts when she curses, “I think we’ll all be pretty content with the situation. And if there _isn__’t_ a practical way, well, I’m sure we can get creative about it.”

“Our Rilla is _particularly_ skilled with that style of creativity,” Damien murmurs, his expression going both embarrassed and hotly pleased.

For a moment, Arum indulges himself in thoughts of how Amaryllis may have used her _creativity_ on the knight in the past, and then he gives a laugh. “I am unsurprised. Clever in all things, our herbalist.”

“I’m immune to your flattery,” Rilla says, but she smiles too hard to properly scowl. “You’re stalling again. You want to continue, right? If you’re not comfortable, we can totally stop.”

“No,” Arum snaps, and then he repeats more gently, “No, I would like to continue, despite my feeling that the two of you together may likely be the death of me.”

Rilla smiles wider. “I’m gonna choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Indeed it was,” Arum says, his eyes flicking hungrily down her body, then shooting to do the same to Damien again as he squirms. He takes a breath, and then he meets Rilla’s eyes. “Here.” He uses two hands to lift himself slightly from the bed, one to undo the tie at the small of his back so the cloth can slip down around his tail, and the last to guide Rilla’s hand back to his hips to let her pull the fabric down.

She looks far less surprised than he expects when she bares him, his cocks already out and hard merely from the teasing ministrations of his lovers’ mouths. Lovers in fact, soon, he thinks, and his cocks twitch in anticipation.

“Everted hemipenes,” Rilla murmurs to herself, science and hunger both warring in her expression, and Arum wrinkles his snout. “Vertically aligned rather than side by side, that’s unexpected, and-”

“I will thank you _not_ to call them that,” he says, glaring up at her. “Have you been theorizing about my anatomy _again_, herbalist? I am not another experiment of yours-”

“T-two?” Damien squeaks beside them, and when Arum turns to him he looks as if he is trying _valiantly_ to hide some measure of both intimidation and delight. Unfortunately for the poet, he wears his heart on his sleeve too easily to deceive.

“Two,” Arum agrees, raising an eyebrow and starting to feel embarrassed again. “Is this an _issue_, or may we-”

“Not an issue, not at all,” Damien shakes his head quickly, eyes wide as he crawls closer on the bed. “May I kiss you again, Lord Arum?”

Arum’s frill flares, his embarrassment mingling with pleasure, though he scoffs to try to cover both. “You- you need not ask, honeysuckle.”

Damien smiles, and the earnestness of the expression pierces Arum as it always does when the knight leans closer. He cups Arum’s face in his hands so softly that it makes his scales tingle, and he presses his lips to the corner of Arum’s mouth with equal care. Arum’s own mouth slips open automatically, and Damien seems to take that as an invitation because he flicks his tongue out, hot and soft against the edge of his scales. Tasting Damien so close and sharp and vibrant, the scent of leather and ink and lust, it makes him feel _wild_.

“If you cannot decide how you would like to proceed, my love, perhaps I could make a suggestion?” Damien murmurs close against his mouth, and Arum hears Rilla chuckle low beside them.

“Wh… what did you have in mind, honeysuckle?”

“I would very much like to kiss you, Lord Arum.”

Arum laughs lightly. “I told you, honeysuckle, you do not need to-”

“Not,” Damien interrupts, blushing despite his determined eye contact, “upon the mouth.”

Arum stares for a moment, very aware of Damien’s warm body above his own, of Amaryllis at his side with her hands caressing his shoulder and arm, and then he realizes that Damien expects Arum to actually _respond_ to that. To respond verbally, even, and not just stare in shock. He swallows, pants out a breath, and nods.

“That- I- I believe I would- _yes_.”

He can _feel_ Amaryllis laughing at him, but when he turns his head to scowl at her Damien leans down and presses a kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat, and then he presses his lips lower, over Arum’s heart. The gesture is so tender, the look on the knight’s face so sweet, and Arum feels it like lightning arcing out from his center. He should be embarrassed about how sharply he responds to such a simple touch, but Damien moves lower, and Arum does not have space in his mind for embarrassment next to the anticipation already rushing through him so vividly.

Damien’s eyes slip closed as he flicks his tongue along Arum’s hipbone, and then he looks up at Arum through dark eyelashes as he kisses his hip. Arum clamps his jaw shut to muffle the growl that wants to escape, and then Damien kisses him there again at the same time Rilla leans in to press her lips to his shoulder, and his breath whirs roughly in the back of his throat.

“May I, Lord Arum?” Damien breathes, his thumbs brushing over the scales at the tops of his thighs, and Arum’s entire body is coiling with heat and tension and the thought of Damien’s soft, sweet lips-

“Y-yes, honeysuckle,” he manages, only barely. “_Damien_.”

Damien smiles, and then he lowers his head. Arum clenches his teeth in a way that feels dangerous, the heat of Damien’s breath already enough to make him _want_\- oh, Arum has not _wanted_ this deeply in _ages_-

Damien closes his eyes and kisses the head of Arum’s higher cock, ember-hot but still feather light in a way that Arum is sure would be deliberately teasing if this were Amaryllis. With Damien, though, he knows it is not. Arum’s breath hitches sharp, and he only just manages to stop his hips from rocking automatically towards the contact when Damien repeats the kiss on his lower cock with barely more pressure. He slips his tongue out to draw up the underside, and Arum hisses through the entire long, slow lick. He wants so _badly_ to cup Damien’s head in his hands, to draw his claws through Damien's hair, but Arum is terrified of the possibility of accidentally cutting the poet with his claws if his focus wavers.

And, considering the determined rhythm Damien’s tongue is dragging up his length, Arum’s focus is not long for this world. He digs his claws into the bed instead, hissing a breath through his clenched teeth, and then Amaryllis sinks her own blunt teeth into his shoulder at the same moment Damien finally lowers his mouth over Arum properly, and Arum barely manages to muffle a shout. Rilla breathes a laugh against his scales and kisses his neck soothingly, and Arum turns his face towards hers, panting out a breath as he nuzzles against her. Her mouth is just as hot as Damien’s, pressed against the crook of his neck, and one of her hands grips his bicep as the other scrapes light nails down his chest.

Arum can _hear_ Damien’s heartbeat pick up as he starts to bob his head in earnest, can smell his arousal rising. He realizes with a jolt how much Damien is enjoying this, enjoying _him_, and then with his eyes still closed the knight reaches a hand up to wrap around Arum’s other cock, stroking in time with the movements of his head, and Arum loses ground in his internal battle for control. His hips stutter automatically, meeting Damien’s mouth and hand, and when the knight groans around him he can’t help himself. His hips rock up again, and again, and soon it is less Damien bobbing his head down over Arum, and more Arum steadily fucking Damien’s mouth.

“_Fuck_,” Amaryllis says emphatically, leaning against his shoulder as she stares down his body at Damien, and Arum rather agrees. Damien’s curls fall into his face with each thrust, his eyes closed, his expression something close to rapturous, his bowstring-calloused hand wrapped gentle but determined around him and his free hand clinging to Arum’s muscular thigh for support- the combined effect is breathtaking, and Arum has barely any breath left to give.

He feels suspended in the rhythm for a time he can’t measure, moments or minutes, but then Damien starts to move faster and Arum still doesn’t know entirely what he wants to do, but he _does_ know that he wants this night to last quite a bit longer than it will if he allows Damien to continue on his current course.

Arum unclenches a hand from where it has been tearing holes in the bed and reaches down, brushing knuckles so very gently down Damien’s cheek until he opens his eyes again. “That’s enough,” he says softly, and he takes the hand Damien has wrapped around him and uses it to pull the knight back up instead. A twinge of embarrassment flashes across Damien’s face as he wipes his mouth, but Arum pulls him flush against his chest, nuzzles against his cheek with a purr, and nips fondly at his jaw. “I should not be surprised that a poet would possess such a talented tongue, honeysuckle.”

Damien gives a pleased little burst of laughter at that. “The flattery of a Lord must count for much,” he says, his voice noticeably husky. “I admit that I was rather enjoying myself,” he says, and Arum can feel the heat rushing to the poet’s face as he flicks his tongue up Damien’s cheek. “It has been some time since I have had cause to apply those particular skills.”

“Looked like you didn’t lose your touch,” Rilla says, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

“I would return your affections in kind right now, honeysuckle, but I don’t wish to neglect our Amaryllis any longer.”

Damien’s eyes go wide for a moment before Rilla laughs and pats his arm. “I am not feeling neglected, Damien. Don’t worry. Though,” she aims her hungry gaze towards Arum for a moment, “I’ve been trying to work out the best way for all three of us to play all together, but the logistics of that might get pretty complicated for a first attempt. So, I guess one way to go might be…” she purses her lips, then looks to Arum again. “Do you _want_ to fuck us?” she asks with a raised eyebrow, and Arum sputters.

“I-” he snaps his teeth, his frill flaring high around his head as he sits up a bit straighter, still holding Damien close against his chest. “_Obviously_.”

“Hey, I’m just making sure that’s something you want, like, _specifically_. Unfamiliar anatomy, Arum,” she says with a wry smile and shrug. “I’d rather ask than make any assumptions. It _seemed_ like you probably wanted to fuck us, but you could have just as easily wanted to _be_ fucked. Or maybe just stick with hands and mouths for the night. Anything, really.”

“I… I suppose that’s _fair_,” he breathes, ducking his head and looking away. “P-perhaps. Perhaps on- on another night. We might discuss that second option.” He pauses, then clears his throat. “But- yes. Indeed. If you- if either of you desire me in that way, I am- I am eager to see how we- how we fit together.”

Rilla’s smile blooms so very warm, and Damien makes a small, helpless noise in his arms, reaching to cup Arum’s cheek.

“Of _course_ we desire you,” he says, voice trembling with the apparent force of that desire, and then he leans in to press his lips to Arum’s mouth, just once, just lightly.

“Definitely,” Rilla agrees, her hungry eyes raking down his body and then back up. “So. Like I said, I think trying to work out the best way to fuck both of you at the same time might be a little- overwhelming? For tonight, at least. So, Arum, did you want to try out this whole sex-with-humans thing with me, first, or with Damien?

“I-” Arum’s eyes go wide, flicking between the pair of them as his tail thrashes behind him in obvious distress. “I couldn’t possibly- I could not possibly make that choice. Amaryllis, I want- I love- I want _both_ of you, there is no part of me which desires one of you over the other, it is not as if- I cannot _choose_-”

“Okay, it’s okay, Arum, that’s… that’s fair. Fair, and kind of sweet, actually,” Rilla says with half a laugh, patting his arm soothingly as he growls, and then she shoots Damien a considering look, her eyebrow raised. “And… be honest, Damien, are you going to feel guilty about it if I let the two of you play without me?”

Damien flushes dark, and after a moment of hesitation he nods, pulling back slightly from Arum’s embrace so he can reach a hand to tangle with Rilla’s own. “It would be difficult not to feel as if I am being inattentive to you, my flower, leaving you aside that way.”

“Okay. I thought you might.” She pauses. “I mean, that’s _silly_ because I feel like watching the two of you together would be… completely fucking incredible on its own and I _do_ have two perfectly good hands, but I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty while we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”

She wriggles against the covers for a moment, then, finally kicking off her skirt, and then she moves to sit between the pair of them, and she puts a hand on each of their shoulders.

“And you’re both _sure_ that you’re comfortable with this, for tonight?” Her smile goes a little- _embarrassed_ for a moment, then. “I know I’m kind of- repeating that question a lot, but I really, _really_ want to do this right, and I’d rather ask more than I need to than start leaping ahead again.”

“Oh, my precious flower-” Damien slips his arms around her, kissing her cheek with an absurd sort of delicacy. “Oh, I love you so much-”

“Making sure you’re gonna enjoy yourself is pretty baseline, Damien, you don’t have to-”

“I know,” he says. “I know. It is simply that I- I feel so utterly _lucky_, to be here with the both of you. I never could have imagined such an abundance of fortune, such a blissful bounty of delight-”

“And you aren’t upset,” she asks firmly, meeting Damien’s eyes, “that this first go-around with all three of us is gonna be me and him?”

Arum tenses beside them, his eyes on Damien as well, clearly anxious for his answer.

Damien laughs, though. “I already had a rather delightful taste, my love,” he says, sounding almost sly. “I would not dream of denying you a turn with our mutual monster.” He leans closer again, kissing Rilla gentle, easy. “I will be most comfortable with this, for the evening. We have countless more evenings awaiting us in the future, where we may try countless other embraces. Allow me the pleasure of observing, this first time, the way my beautiful Amaryllis and my lovely lily twine together. It will be an honor, merely to be beside you.”

“Looking for new material to write with?” Rilla asks, teasing despite the color in her own cheeks, despite her slight breathlessness and the way she seems as enraptured by Damien’s lilting tone as Arum himself is.

“You are poetry itself, love,” Damien says, and kisses her again. “The pair of you together- I imagine you shall be lucky if I do not bubble up into verse at the mere sight of you.”

Arum raises an eyebrow. “You must tell me if he is serious, Amaryllis. Has he sprung metaphor and rhyme upon you even in this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Rilla says with a laugh. “I’ve learned that there are some poems that _only_ belong in the bedroom, actually.”

Arum laughs, and then Rilla’s arms slip around his shoulders and his mirth abruptly shifts, the heat of her in his arms like a small sun as she cups his skull in her hand, stroking her fingers down the ridge of horns along his spine. He shivers automatically (he is unsure- has anyone ever touched him there? Touched him like that?) and her other hand lifts his chin towards her, so she can kiss him again.

He purrs low, entirely out of his own control, and then he twines his arms around Amaryllis in turn and gathers her close, crowding until he leans over her. He presses his body against her heat, the softness of her skin, and he growls low and nips lightly at her jaw, his mind going fuzzy and pleased when that makes her laugh again, her stomach jumping.

“Okay,” she says while he nuzzles against her neck, and he growls a questioning noise. “So- I still wanna take my time a little longer, and I _have_ noticed that you don’t seem too keen on using your hands, but honestly I really would like it if you touched me-”

“I would rather not cut you to ribbons, Amaryllis,” Arum says, layering snideness over his embarrassed worry.

“I think you’ve proven yourself capable of being careful.” She pulls back from him enough to interlace her fingers with his, then she presses a kiss to his cheek as she deliberately and pointedly moves his hand to her chest. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t trust you, you know,” she breathes, moving their hands together against her breast, brushing her own thumb over her nipple with a sigh.

Arum is wary for another moment, flexing his hand so his claws are as far from her skin as they can be with his palm caressing her, but it only takes a moment for his curiosity and desire to edge past his nerves. He watches her face, watches her reactions with fascination as together they touch this apparently sensitive curve, and he mimics the slow movement of her hands with incredible, delicate care. When he has grown comfortable with this touch he feels bold enough to lean closer, experimentally flicking his tongue out to tease her other nipple, and Amaryllis gives a breathy laugh that Arum instantly desires to hear again. Her skin is so strangely smooth against his palm, hot as his humans are everywhere, and he curls his tongue around the curve of her breast, watching the way she bites her lip, and when his tongue drags over her nipple again she gasps, her other hand lifting to grasp one of his horns, pulling him closer, and his own breath hitches in a wavering purr.

She blinks, and then the grip on his horn shifts, and she wraps her fingers around the curve, dragging her palm over it, and his eyes flutter closed, the purr pitching louder automatically.

“That feels… good, then?” she asks quietly, and he pulls his tongue away to answer.

“It is… it can be _soothing_, I suppose,” he murmurs. He slits an eye open to look at her, at the unselfconscious way she’s laying back against the cushions beneath him, bare and beautiful and smiling with one hand still tangled with his own over her breast, the other caressing him so gently. “Not precisely the intent of the night, so far as I understand it.”

“No, I guess not,” she says with a shrug, “but it’s good to know anyway.” She lifts her other hand away from her breast, cupping his chin instead and pulling him closer so she can kiss his mouth, so she can sigh against the sharp edge of his teeth as he carefully caresses her chest. He only needs one hand to hold himself up over her, so he lifts the other two to join the first, still so utterly careful of his sharpness as he massages her other breast, as he gently cups her cheek. “_Arum_,” she murmurs against his lips with a smile. “See? I trust you to be careful, and I know that-” she pauses to hum lightly as he brushes thumbs over both of her nipples simultaneously, and then she laughs. “Proving my- my _point_. I was gonna say that I know-” she breaks off to gasp as he experimentally dances the tips of his claws just lightly, _so_ lightly down the column of her throat. “I _know_,” she tries a third time, breathless, “that however you touch me, it’s gonna feel _good_.”

Arum cannot think of a single thing he desires more, in this moment, than making his humans feel _good_.

He leans closer, pressing his mouth against the crook of her neck in as close to a kiss as he can manage, and then he scrapes his teeth softly over her shoulder as he touches her, as he feels her heat radiating into his scales and her heart drumming close, and then he feels the shake of her light laughter, too.

“Do we look good, Damien?” she asks, voice low as she rolls her body up in a delicious wave against his own, her fingertips pressing into his back.

Arum hears Damien breathe sharply, his voice shaking as he replies, “A-always, my love. Oh, you are so _radiant_, so utterly captivating, the sight of you together makes my heart _ache_, makes-”

“Not just your heart, I don’t think.”

Damien chokes, and Arum runs his tongue up Amaryllis’ throat and caresses her chest and imagines the deliciously dark shade their poet’s cheeks must be turning, just now. “R-Rilla, oh-”

“You know you’re allowed to touch yourself if you want to, Damien,” Rilla says, warm and not particularly teasing. “I don’t want you to feel like tonight is just for _us_, over here.”

Arum finally glances over his shoulder, then, to see Damien beside them, halfway between sitting and laying on the bed as he watches them with flushed cheeks, his shoulders stiff at the sudden scrutiny and- well. Certain other relevant parts of him stiff, as well.

He flushes darker when Arum’s eyes settle upon him, and he looks aside, biting his lip.

Arum cannot breathe, for half a moment, at how utterly beautiful Damien looks. His subtle, easy strength, the ripples of his soft hair, the tender, shy affection in his eyes, the eager tension of his hardness. Arum needs to blink the glow from his own eyes before he can catch enough breath to speak again.

“I do not know why you should be so _demure_, little honeysuckle,” he breathes, and Damien flicks his eyes back up. “This is why we are here, is it not? To- to give each other pleasure. It would please me greatly to see you take that pleasure for yourself. You are… tempting beyond reason. The sight of you- honeysuckle, you make me _ravenous_, and to see you so ravenous yourself-”

“Might make him a bit too anxious if you stare,” Rilla murmurs close, and Arum blinks away from Damien’s wide-eyed face and nearly opens his mouth to say how _ridiculous_ that is, because Damien is absurdly stunning. He has no reason to be concerned with being observed, he is _magnificent_\- but the knowing look in Rilla’s eye stops his words, and he refocuses on her instead. She gives him a grateful smile then, and then- a somewhat more sly smile.

She shifts rather quickly, rolling the both of them to put Arum on his back, with Amaryllis above him with her knees framing his hips. He gives a helpless gasping snarl, more from the hungry way she looks down at him than the sudden movement.

“Ah, Amaryllis-”

“I think I’d like to be on top, if that’s okay?”

Arum can feel his frill flare, can feel his cocks twitch at her heat so close and her easy tone and the knowledge that Damien is watching them, and he jerks his head in a nod. “Of course, Amaryllis. However- however you would like me.”

Rilla raises an eyebrow, settling her hips closer and rocking very, very lightly against him, making him clench his teeth through a hiss. “But is that how you want _me_?”

“Amaryllis I-” he growls low, gripping her hips in two hands and rocking his own up to meet her. “I _want_ you, I want you with such fierceness that the _how_ does not even factor in. I simply _want_. You could have me however you liked, however you most desired, and I would- I would be grateful to be allowed such pleasure, and grateful to be allowed to give you whatever pleasure you wished for yourself.”

“Saints,” Rilla murmurs, her expression gone a little dazed. “Y’know, I said earlier that I was immune to the flattery but like, _honestly_, Arum, between you and Damien even _I__’m_ gonna get a little- a little flustered. I-” she laughs, “I think I want you inside me now. Like, _right_ now. If you’re ready.”

“If I am-” Arum exhales sharply, his hands squeezing Amaryllis’ hips. “Amaryllis, _please_,” he says, but the sardonic veneer is not quite enough to hide the sharp desire in his plea. “_If_ I am _ready_. Ridiculous-”

She goes up on her knees, reaching a hand between her own legs, and Arum loses his words and then his breath entirely, and he hears Damien make a similarly strangled noise, and she kneels above him and touches herself and her smile is a little fuzzy at the edges and Arum still feels, at times, as if there must be something fey about her. Something _wild_, that she only barely concerns herself to hide.

“This is a slightly awkward question,” she says with another grin, “but which of your hemipe-”

“I am going to insist that you call them my cocks and never apply your jargon to my anatomy again,” he growls quickly, and she laughs outright.

“Okay, okay, then which of your _cocks_ do you plan to fuck me with tonight?” she says, and her tone could only be described as a purr. “I’m sure we’ll have all kinds of fun with that whole duality in the future, but I think I wanna keep things simple for tonight.”

Arum- forgets a rather embarrassing amount of spoken language, for a moment, and instead he gives a strangled little _ha_ noise. He inhales sharply, shakes his head, and considers the way she touches herself, the way he can use his body to most please her. “H-here,” he mutters after a moment, reaching down to take himself in hand as she widens her knees, lowering herself carefully, and he positions the head of his lower cock against her.

Her heat-

He hisses sharp, his eyes closing automatically, and he still holds himself with one hand but the others he buries in the bed instead, claws shredding silk. So warm- these mammals with all their irresponsible overabundance of heat, as if they each carry a fire within them. When he blinks his eyes back open, her own dark eyes burn with that heat too, precisely as hungry as he feels, and he may be a Lord but this creature could command him with the twitch of her lips, could knock him to his knees with a glance.

(He already longs to go to his knees for her, dreaming of all the ways they will tangle together in the future-)

“Ready?” she murmurs, and Arum does not quite have the breath to scoff, so he gives a sharp nod instead. His heart thunders so loud, now, that he cannot hear her own anymore, despite her closeness. She smiles, a hint of smugness mingling with her eager joy, and then she glances aside. “Okay, Damien?”

Arum looks as well, and he is surprised to find that his heart can beat even _harder_.

Damien splays out beside them, his eyes fixed upon them and his lower lip caught between his teeth, with one hand pressed over his heart and the other stroking his own cock, slow and measured and patient.

“H-_honeysuckle_,” Arum breathes, and Damien meets his eyes with a little gasp.

“I think we’ve kept our lily in suspense for long enough, my love,” Damien says, voice low and shaking, and Rilla laughs.

“Fair point,” she says with a grin, and then she fixes her eyes on Arum again, pinning him against the bed, and she raises her eyebrow in one last question.

“I am not going to _beg_, _takatakataka_,” Arum growls breathlessly, and when her grin goes wider and more predatory at that he feels a rush of further heat in his stomach, and if he had enough breath left in his lungs he would laugh at himself. He should have known the herbalist would take that as a _challenge_. “Not- not tonight, at the very least,” he concedes in a mutter, and Rilla smirks indulgently down at him.

“I’ll put that on the quickly-growing list of future experiments,” she says slyly.

Then, before he can decide if he would prefer if that list were a _joke_ or not, she at last starts to sink herself down.

She watches him as she meets his hips with her own, wet heat slowly enveloping him, and he whines sharp and low as two of his hands grasp at her thighs, the other two still clinging desperately to the bed beneath him, and Arum cannot possibly help the purr rumbling in his chest.

When she has taken him as deep as possible, she stills for a moment. She bites her lip, closing her eyes and giving a shaky breath as she shifts her hips, adjusting to how different he must feel from their poet, the new texture, new coolness, new angle. She hums, then, her lip curling into a smile as she opens her eyes again, pleasure obvious on her face, and-

“You are- _impossibly_ beautiful,” Arum hisses, his own voice shaking, and her smile goes softer.

“You’re pretty damn gorgeous yourself,” she says as she starts to move, and even the slow, testing rhythm she starts with makes him feel _dizzy_. “I mean _Saints_, Arum, _look_ at you.”

“The both of you,” Damien says breathlessly, and now he touches himself in time with the pace Rilla sets, matching her rise and fall with the stroke of his own hand. “Oh- oh such exquisite, wild beauty- oh you burn so brightly I can hardly look at you, oh my radiant loves-”

Rilla shivers at Damien’s voice; Arum can _feel_ her trembling around him, above him. He chokes out a breath and rocks his hips up to meet hers, helpless, his palms caressing her strong thighs.

“Ah- _yes_,” she breathes, and then she leans closer, supporting herself with a hand on each of his shoulders as she starts to move faster, as she meets his thrusts and rolls her body with them. “Is- is this- does that feel- good, Arum?”

He chokes through a laugh. “R-ridiculous, ridiculous that you would even _ask_-”

“Maybe- maybe I want to hear you say it, Arum,” she grins, and her tone would be teasing if she didn’t sound so utterly breathless herself.

“_Ridiculous_,” he hisses again. “You are _incredible_, of course you are- you feel- you make me-” he breaks into a formless growl, lifting his other hands from the bed at last to tangle in her hair, to pull her face close so he can nuzzle against her lips until she graces him with a kiss, and then another, lips soft and tongue hot against him, biting his lip with her blunt short teeth. “_Good_,” he breathes, “would be an unconscionable understatement, Amaryllis.”

“Flattery again,” she says, and it is difficult to focus beyond the movement of her hips, beyond the feeling of her hands, but he manages to shake his head.

“Honesty, Amaryllis.” He pulls his hands through her hair, drawing his tongue up her neck and purring low as she moves with him. “You are so very- very many things, but the word _good_ is insufficient to describe- you are ferocious, you are- you are brilliant and wild and- so _shockingly_ bold-”

“Luminous and brave and ingenious,” Damien continues in a lilt. “Though- though that applies equally to the both of you, I should say, like two stars crashing together, a burst of color and light and radiance so far beyond what should by rights be possible, all magic and miracle-”

“Saints, the pair of you,” she breathes through an overwhelmed sort of smile, and then she leans back again to sit upright on his lap, the cool air rushing against his scales in a shocking wave as she rolls her hips faster, with more purpose, making him snap his teeth together with a hissing whine. She reaches a hand down again, wrapping her palm around the curve of the cock not inside of her, and he chokes out a breath as she strokes him with her soft, hot hand, and when she bounces on his lap she holds him so the curve of his second cock rubs against her folds, so it rubs against the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex each time he thrusts into her. She bites her lip, gasps, throws her head back and her hair ripples behind her like a waterfall, like ink.

“If- if you continue with that- I will not-” Arum tenses, throwing his head to the side to pant wildly for a moment, “I will not last terribly long, Amaryllis. You are too- too-”

“That’s okay, Arum,” she says, her voice a gentle purr as she moves her hand and rocks her hips and gives not a single inch. “I was just thinking - and tell me if this is too greedy of me - that I could make you come for me, and then Damien and I-”

Damien makes a strangled noise at his name, and Arum’s hips stutter automatically. “_Greed_-” Arum breathes. “Perhaps, but only the same greed I feel for you- the same greed-” he breaks off to snarl as she twists her hips unexpectedly. “If- if you think I should not be utterly enraptured to watch you take honeysuckle as you are taking me-”

“Good, ah, that’s what I was- was hoping you’d say. Damien,” Amaryllis gasps, her movements speeding as she reaches her unoccupied hand towards their poet. “Here, c’mere, I want-”

Damien obeys, crawling closer on the bed until she can reach him, and then she pulls him closer and tilts her head and drags him into a kiss, and Arum watches their mouths and tongues sliding together as Amaryllis fucks him, and it feels so impossible, so utterly _impossible_ that Arum should be allowed this.

When the kiss breaks Amaryllis gasps, and the way her hips are moving now is less controlled, and Damien smiles in a knowing, fond sort of way, and then he shifts again, slipping behind the herbalist and pressing himself against her back. She gasps again, and then Damien’s hands rest light on Amaryllis’ waist and he presses a kiss to her neck, and Arum realizes with a jolt and a helpless growl that Damien is watching him, his eyes attentive and rapturous upon him over Amaryllis’ shoulder.

“_Honeysuckle_,” he gasps, and Rilla’s eyes slip closed, now, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and every time their hips meet she makes a tiny delighted _noise_, and Arum thinks that noise is like her laughter, bright and bubbling and it makes his heart feel almost painfully full, and he thrusts to meet her even deeper, tries greedily to pull even more noises from her.

“So beautiful,” Damien breathes, his lips against Amaryllis’ neck, and Arum gasps and growls and the pair of them together are so beyond anything else he has ever been lucky enough to have. “May I?” Damien murmurs into her ear, and Arum is not sure what he intends, but Amaryllis gasps and nods quickly and leans back just slightly into Damien’s arms.

“_Yes_, Damien- Damien please- want to feel you too-”

And Damien _smiles_, soft and easy though his cheeks are still dark with desire, and one of the hands on Rilla’s waist drifts forward. His arm curls around her body and his fingertips tickle over her stomach and then up to cup her breast, caressing her softness so gently, and the sight of him teasing Amaryllis with such tender care as she moves with such wildness between them makes Arum feel the love pooling at his center with such a vivid _stab_ that it blurs his vision.

And then Damien moves his other hand, slipping it down and forward and the poet meets Arum’s eyes in a question just before his hand brushes over Rilla’s fingers, wrapped around his second cock. As he realizes what Damien intends, Arum’s body thrums with even more heat, and it must show on his face because Damien’s smile goes softer, more fond, and his fingers slip between Amaryllis’, curling around him. Arum hisses at the combined touch, the new layer of heat, the knowledge of the _both of them_ touching him and wanting him and something within him tips over, the hot hot affection he feels rushing out in a wave.

“H-honeys-” he breaks into a hiss, an utterly uncontrolled whine. “Amaryllis, I- I-”

He keens sharp, but Damien’s eyes are warm and Rilla’s are hungry and neither of them cease their movements, and Arum cannot stop the crashing pulse of heat that careens through him, and so he does not try, he simply clings to Amaryllis’ thighs and rolls his body helplessly into hers and feels their hands and their heat and their love and for one hot moment he loses himself entirely in that rush.

Then he is panting and warm, trembling and spent, and Amaryllis leans down close to press her smiling lips to his mouth.

“That,” she says, “was _perfect_, Arum.”

He swallows roughly, something about the praise making him feel- strange and warm and overwhelmed, and he reaches up with surprisingly clumsy hands to cup her face. “You…” he says, and then he does not know what words should come next, so he simply sighs deep and flicks his tongue out to lick her cheek affectionately. “Amaryllis.”

“Arum,” she repeats, still smiling, and then she kisses him again before she leans back away. She gasps as she lifts herself off of him, then hums contentedly as Damien holds her in strong gentle arms, softly lowering the both of them so Rilla drapes along Arum’s side, kissing his cheek and his frill and his neck as Damien curls behind her and kisses a light trail of affection across her shoulder. “So that was-” she laughs. “Good?”

Arum growls, pulling her closer and nuzzling his snout into her hair. “Unconscionable understatement,” he mutters again, and her laughter shakes through her.

She wriggles slightly against him, and behind her Damien makes a breathless sort of noise. “So did you mean it, before, when you said you wanted to watch us?”

“_Obviously_,” Arum purrs, too warm and sated to pretend any level of indifference. “Our poor honeysuckle has been so very patient, tonight, so attentive and affectionate… and I do not believe that you were quite satiated yet yourself, my Amaryllis. I would- I would be quite pleased to see you- to see you both satisfied.”

She grins, and then she twists in his arms so her back rests against his chest, and her hands find Damien’s shoulders to pull him closer. “C’mon, Sir Poet, Arum’s right. Your turn to enjoy yourself a little.”

“I have been enjoying myself quite thoroughly, my love,” Damien says, looking down at her with wonder and adoration. He climbs closer despite his words, however, positioning himself above Amaryllis as she lets her legs fall open. “You are so utterly enchanting, so seductive, so beautiful when you take your pleasure- I was enthralled to watch you with our lily, the pair of you together bind me like silk around every inch of my body, you leave me utterly helpless- but of course if you mean that you desire me, my Rilla, I would be honored to make love to you-”

“_Damien_,” Amaryllis says with a laugh, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing, “you have no idea how ready I am right now, the sweet talk is lovely and all but really I-”

She cuts off in a gasp as Damien sinks into her, and then there is a breath of pause before she laughs again in delight and leans up to kiss him and he starts to thrust in earnest, and now Arum knows that sensation too, knows precisely how his honeysuckle feels with Amaryllis’ warm smile upon him and her heat all around him, and Arum is too sated to feel his own arousal again but they are so, so _beautiful_, so warm with each other, so-

Arum watches them, Amaryllis carefully held against his chest as Damien fills her, warm and tender. He watches their soft dark skin press together, watches Amaryllis’ easy smile and Damien’s expression of aching fondness, watches the ease with which they move each other, the comfort of Damien murmuring soft verse into the shell of Amaryllis’ ear, and Arum finds that he does not feel at all intimidated by their gentle familiarity.

He feels his own future, instead. He feels his heart pulse for them, feels so utterly, inarguably certain that he will earn that familiarity too. He loves them, loves the way they love each other, and Arum may be an impatient creature but for this he wishes to take his time, to learn each nuance of these remarkable creatures with whom he has chosen to share himself, these wild beings who have chosen to share themselves with him.

Amaryllis trembles in his arms, giving those quiet little moans again as Damien whispers gentle and holds her face in his hands and makes love to her with all the care in the world, and Arum nuzzles closer, holds her more securely, loves them both with a depth of which he did not think himself capable.

When Amaryllis comes she shakes, gasping and writhing and clinging to Damien so tightly that her knuckles go pale, the impressions of her fingertips left behind in his shoulders and on his back as she arches her spine and presses herself harder and deeper against him. When she settles back against Arum’s chest, exhaling a deep, deep sigh as her heart thrums hot in her chest, Damien kisses her cheek so terribly gently, and Arum can’t help but nuzzle against Amaryllis’ neck as well, flicking his tongue out in his own echoing almost-kiss. And then Rilla laughs breathlessly between them, pulling Damien closer with clumsy but decisive hands, and it takes only a very few more eager, determined thrusts for Amaryllis to pull Damien through to his own release as well.

Damien glows with his own sort of beauty when he comes, trembling with his eyes closed and his face utterly blissful, utterly serene, and the small helpless moans that slip from his lips are almost musical.

When Damien near-collapses on top of Amaryllis, both of their weights rest in Arum’s arms, and he does not think that any weight before has felt so _right_. He leans down to nuzzle Damien’s hair, his hands gently caressing the both of them wherever he can reach, and he whispers vague wordless affection above them until Rilla snorts a laugh and gently shoves Damien off to give herself room to breathe again, leaving the knight boneless and pliant and murmuring softly against the scales of Arum’s shoulder.

She exhales, still a little breathless, and runs a hand through her own hair as she shoots Arum a sleepy grin. “So. I would say that was a successful experiment.”

He barks his own laugh, then, rolling his eyes before he leans to nudge his snout fondly into her cheek. “Ridiculous creature. Yes, obviously I would have to agree. However- if this was an experiment-” he hesitates, and Rilla raises an eyebrow at him, gesturing for him to continue. “That means we will need to repeat it, yes? To ensure our results are… reproducible.” He pauses, and the smirk Rilla gives him and Damien's startled laugh in arms makes his frill flare wide, even as it makes his heart flare warm. “Preferably soon. Preferably very, _very_ soon. And often.”

“I believe I quite agree,” Damien mumbles, his face still buried in Arum’s neck, and Rilla laughs outright.

“Well,” she says smugly, leaning close for another kiss. “I’m certainly not gonna argue with _that_.”


End file.
